Damaged Goods
by Esca Madeline
Summary: It wasn't exactly the Immaculate Conception. Edgar centric, one shot


Disclaimer: Bully is owned by Rockstar.

A/N: Due to a request, this drabble is dedicated to Edgar, the leader of the Townies. There are…adult situations here due to the fact that I think Edgar's eighteen in the game. Also, as a Townie, life can't exactly be easy.

I think that there has to be a PUBLIC school in that town somewhere. Come on, a kid can't just NOT go to school. Bullworth is a private school, but surely there must be a public one too?

**Episode: Damaged Goods**

It wasn't exactly the Immaculate Conception.

It was one of those risks people let happen sometimes. It was one of those stupid, careless risks that virtually ruined my parents' lives and still made my Momma scream today about how thoughtless she had been, how she should have gone to the abortion clinic the first chance she got.

Still, thank god things worked out the way they did, otherwise I wouldn't be here today.

I'm not trying to badmouth my Momma, though god knows she and Daddy deserve it. I'm sure they toyed with the ideas of precautions and whatnot. But you know…I think that sometime during that car ride, the idea of "precautions" didn't grow more than a simple idea. Besides, I know where they're coming from. When you and your girl is in the mood, any poorly thought-out words can easily break the moment. It can bring everyone home to their own good sense.

Besides, no girl can just plain out ask a guy, "Are you carrying a number in your back pocket? Did you know I'm not on the pill? Maybe we'd better stop for some Trojans, baby."

That's why I always have a rubber on me during a date. Skip all the awkward shit, and show the girl that I'm at least thinking right. If she gets pregnant, the kid sure as hell ain't mine.

* * *

I'm the product of a black father and a white mother.

It's so fucking messed up, how hypocritical this damn country is. Daddy came right from Blue Skies Industrial Park, born and bred from my construction worker granddaddy. But Momma…Momma came from those rich snobbish groups, the "Preppies" as some Bullworth Academy kids call them. She had to sneak out of her home to be with Daddy that night, and under a disguise too.

We're living in modern times, but my Momma, as a teenager, needed a fucking disguise to see my Daddy. And even during the date, she was spooked. She complained to him that they would never be able to dancing in the clubs. Maybe if they lived in New York, maybe then. But here, in Bullworth, they couldn't.

In Bullworth, everybody knew who everybody else was, to the point of knowing who rightfully matched up with whom.

Daddy and Momma weren't _supposed_ to mix. Daddy was lower-middle class, black, and had no social standing. Momma was white, rich, and had everything to lose. It wasn't "right."

But they went out anyway.

"You wanna go dancin'?" Daddy said, with a grin. "I'll take you dancin'." And he did. He drove her from Bullworth to the outer limits of the city, parking his car on a cliff that overlooked the entire town. It's a beautiful sight from up there, and my Momma…she was so impressed that she just got out of the car and walked over to the edge, looking down over the lights of the town as she held her breath from the scene.

As for Daddy, he stayed in the car, going through three stations for a slow song before he finally found one on his fourth try. Then he got out, swung Momma in his arms, and danced the night away with her.

And…well…I guess it's like the whole world didn't matter to them right in that moment. All that mattered to Momma was Daddy's hand in the small of her back, the warm feeling of his breath against her neck as he dipped her, the feeling of his lips as he brushed them teasingly against her cheek.

When they fucked for the first time that night, they did it out of the heat of the moment, without a single thought to the consequences. They didn't think that they were going to lose anything out of the deal other than their virginities, and they sure as hell didn't think they were going to get something out of the whole thing other than carnal pleasure.

But they were wrong. They got something to keep.

* * *

Momma didn't abort upon learning that she was pregnant with me.

She was a Pro-Life woman at the time, and she wanted to keep me alive more than anything, even if it meant defying her parents. Well, her parents in turn did everything they could to get her to ditch me and my Daddy. They grounded her, revoked her credit cards, and froze her bank accounts. She couldn't ride her fancy Jaguar car, she couldn't go to Aquaberry Fashions to get new clothing, and she sure as hell couldn't see my Daddy again.

These actions severely shocked Momma and, for a while, she seriously considered killing me. But my life-loving Daddy, who secretly snuck into her room by means of a crooked butler and a servant's outfit, managed to convince her that I was worth it. That he was worth it.

That _we_ were worth it.

She believed him.

My Momma, stupid woman that she is, somehow managed to muster the courage to tell her parents that she was keeping me, and that she was going to marry my Daddy no matter what kind of curveballs they threw at her.

Her parents disowned her a short while after that.

Momma's a Pro-Choice woman now.

* * *

My great-granddaddy was a construction worker. My granddaddy was a construction worker. So it made sense that my Daddy became a construction worker too.

They don't get paid very much, though. Construction workers, I mean. With careful planning, it would be all right for a family of three as long there wasn't any excessive shopping, but…

Momma didn't like having to budget her money. She had once been the pampered daughter of the fourth largest toothpick guru in the world. She wasn't used to wearing secondhand clothing that didn't even have an authentic designer label. She wasn't used to eating "commoner foods." She wasn't used to cleaning the house, to cooking dinner. She wasn't used to taking care of a baby, and she definitely wasn't used to having to tend to people other than herself.

Her head was empty. I mean no offense to my Momma, but her head was as empty as a flowerpot. Sure, she was beautiful and was a great fuck in bed, but she couldn't hold an intelligent conversation. She didn't like physical labor. She didn't want to care for others—she wanted others to care for her.

Stupid, stupid woman.

"Edgar's crying," Momma would say to Daddy as she tried to bounce me on her knee, in a pathetic attempt to get me to stop crying. She would look at Daddy with an uncertain fear in her eyes, and thrust me out towards him. "Do something. Make him stop."

Daddy would look at me, and scowl. "Damn it woman. He's just hungry. Feed him."

"Feed him? How?"

"How? Use your damn tits! God knows you don't let _me_ suck them anymore. Might as well give them to the kid!"

Momma would stare at him in horror. "Let Edgar drool all over my perfect bosom? Really, how can you _say_ such a thing?"

Again, I repeat myself. Stupid, _stupid_ woman.

* * *

It's no doubt that my Momma's selfishness caused a strain on my parents' marriage.

I remember when I was little, that Daddy used to come home early just to play with me. We'd roughhouse just a little bit before we'd crash on the couch and watch a soccer game on the television. Just before dinner (which Momma would burn half the time) he'd smile and give me a bag of doughnuts that he saved for me throughout the day.

Chocolate with raspberry jelly in the center. Mmm.

But as I grew older, things changed little by little. Daddy would come home later and later. The bag of doughnuts would grow smaller and smaller, until he stopped bringing them home completely. Sometimes, he'd come stumbling though the door stone drunk, smelling of perfume that definitely wasn't Momma's.

I once asked him why there were red lipstick marks on his shirt, and he told me to shut my trap if I didn't want a beating.

Like the idiot I was, I kept asking. Now I got a permanent scar on the left side of my face.

Momma changed too. She grew older, and her looks faded with stress and age. Her voice, once soothing, became rough and harsh, and everything that came out of her mouth sounded like a horrendous nag. She stopped complaining, but her resentment over the loss of her old life didn't just go away. No, she stored that dark hatred somewhere deep inside her, into a place that I couldn't see but could definitely feel. Our house became much quieter, but her personality suffered for it, as she became bitter and angry about almost everything, including me.

She showed me this hatred in a subliminal way. As I grew, I need more clothes, so she'd buy me seconds, different types of damaged goods, rather than an item that was whole and unflawed, but essentially poorer in quality.

"But Momma," I'd protest. "It's got a stain on it."

And Momma would say, "Baby, it's a good thing for you that it does, otherwise we would never have been able to afford it. Besides, it's Aquaberry! Don't complain!"

Damn you, Momma. You don't know the hell I went through, going to public school in _those _clothes.

She started to go out of the house on "errands." She'd leave after I headed off for school, and she'd disappear for hours at a time, coming back at completely random hours. I don't know what the hell she was doing, but judging from the lecherous looks the mailman's been giving her, I have a very sick suspicion in mind.

During my younger years, her "errands" were very inconvenient for me, especially when I came home from the worn down public school and found the house empty.

The stupid bitch didn't even leave me anything to eat.

* * *

You know, I don't actually hate Bullworth Academy as a school. It's a pretty good place to learn, if you can look past all of the bastards that make up the student body. I honestly wouldn't have minded going there, but…

…it's so damn _expensive_.

I might as well pay for _college_ tuition, for crying out loud. There was no way my Daddy could afford for me to go there. The family would go bankrupt in a year, and then we'd end up on the streets.

I couldn't do that to my family. They tried for me, you know? Momma and Daddy might hate each other's guts, but they're staying together for me, even if they haven't slept with each other for a few years now.

Can't help but feel a little bitter about it, though. I tried applying for a scholarship—the school occasionally gives a free pass to academically gifted kids—but even there, I wasn't smart enough to get the money. It went to some younger boy…Earnest Jones, I think.

Damn smart-ass.

Right then and there…I think that's when I started hating the place. Those assholes intentionally made it so that underprivileged kids couldn't get in, and they made the scholarship test so hard that you basically had to give up your fucking _life_ in order to study hard enough to get the free pass.

I hated those kids. Always bitching about how hard their life was. What the fuck were they complaining about? At least they could afford to go to the academy. I'm stuck going to public school. We have to fucking _share_ textbooks.

Those who went to Bullworth Public High School…we were pretty much doomed to be stuck in this town for the rest of our lives.

But those Bullworth Academy punks…they just HAD to rub it in. They were always running around the place, like they owned the whole town or something. Sometimes, when I went into Bullworth Town, they'd look down on me and insult me. "What the hell are you looking at, Townie?" a WASP-ish Bullworth boy once sneered to my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that he was wearing an Aquaberry sweater vest. "Go back to the gutter where you belong."

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I kept my back to him as I secretly lit a firecracker. "Kid, just keep your mouth shut if you don't want to get hurt."

"Oh my! Bif, this peasant piece of filth actually thinks he can _hurt_ us!"

"That's _hilarious_!"

A dark grin crept past my lips, and I turned around and aimed. "Don't say that I didn't warn you."

* * *

I suppose my hatred of Bullworth just grew after that. Well, that and the fact that I had to spend a few days in the asylum due to that rich punk's father threatening to sue my family if I wasn't arrested.

Me and my friends, we started hanging out at the Chem-O Plant just to get away from the harsh reality around us because, god be damned, we just couldn't _face _it. We couldn't face the fact that we were losers. We couldn't face the fact that we were never going to escape the blue collar atmosphere we were born into. We couldn't face it, and we sure as hell couldn't accept it.

Some kids dropped out of Bullworth Academy, you know. At first, I didn't want them anywhere near me. Once a Bullworth Academy kid, always a Bullworth Academy kid. But Jerry, Duncan, and Zoe…they all ended up in Blue Skies for different reasons, and each reason was enough to make me hate that place just a little more.

Jerry was a natural born idiot with a superiority-complex, but even he didn't deserve to be knocked off for having bad grades. He pretty much gave it his all, but no one wanted to help him with his work. Everyone was too busy looking out for themselves, and the Nerds only complicated things with their scientific language. Really, would it kill those freaks to speak in Layman's Terms?

Duncan had been a frequent victim of Bullying. Wedgied to the maximum, swirlied until he had almost drowned. He just couldn't take it anymore, and no one could blame him for dropping out. In truth, I honestly felt sorry for Duncan.

Zoe…man, that's one fine girl there. Tall, pretty, and very cute. Until she opened her mouth. Personality of an Amazon, someone ten times her size. I don't like women with big mouths, as they tend to remind me of Momma, but the other guys seem to _love_ her. So I let her hang around. It's like having a pretty painting in a gallery, though hell would freeze over before I ever admitted that to Zoe out loud.

And then I met Jimmy Hopkins.

* * *

Kid was a freaking nightmare.

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have messed with him. And I definitely _shouldn't _have listened to Gary Smith. (Though you have to admit, Smith really does know how to use words and language to his advantage.)

But seriously, where the hell did the kid get the guts to come after me like that? _Me_, of all people? I heard that Hopkins had literally trampled his way through my gang in order to get to me. Omar still flinches at the sight of potatoes and bottle rockets to this day, and I have no idea why.

And Zoe…the little bitch. She helped Hopkins get to me. Pretty paintings aren't supposed to rebel now, are they?! ARE THEY?!

But you know, the kid's pretty quick-witted. When I came after him with a lead pipe, Hopkins shielded himself using some of the panels from nearby machines. Then, he smacked me with the same damn panel while my guard was down. The bastard!

Yet that wasn't all. He then _steals_ my lead pipe, chases me to a corner, and then proceeds to beat the living snot out of me with my own weapon!

AGH! If I wasn't so pissed at him, I'd be slightly impressed.

But the kid was cool. I mean, he didn't kill me, and that's always a plus. He wanted my help to take out Gary, and…well, with a metal pipe swinging above my head menacingly, what choice did I have?

At any rate, I _was_ in the fault. But you'll never catch me saying that out loud.

But just because I respect Jimmy, doesn't mean that I like Bullworth Academy.

Zoe got reenrolled, which bugged me to no end. What the hell did she hang out with us for, if all she wanted to do was go back to that snobby place? Didn't the time she spent hanging out with us mean anything to her?

She was just using us. Bitch.

I still spend most of my days at Blue Skies Industrial Park. There's nothing else to do anyway. And since I'm hitting nineteen, Momma and Daddy want me to find a job soon.

They want me out of their life already. I'm hurt.

Omar's working in the 57¢ store in New Coventry, but I don't want to go there. That's a dead end job, and the last thing I want is to be stuck in a dead end job.

I don't want to end up like my parents. I have to get out of here, out of this goddamn town.

Maybe I'll take a position at the Laser Lounge. The pay is decent, and they always need a good bouncer there.

* * *

**This is my shot at Edgar's life. Since we know next to nothing about him, this is my take at one of the (cuter) clique leaders in the game. And yes, Edgar really DOES have a scar on the left side of his face.**

**Read and review.**


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